


all those people that you know

by SoloChaos



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Autistic Beetlejuice, Autistic Character, Canon Compliant, Charles is Beej's Dad, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, POV Outsider, Self-Harm, Sensory Overload, Stimming, meltdowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloChaos/pseuds/SoloChaos
Summary: For the past few months, Mr. Deetz and his son, BJ, have come to Hugh’s Groceries every Tuesday.Frances also comes to Hugh’s Groceries every Tuesday. Actually, Frances comes to Hugh’s Groceries every Sunday through Thursday. That’s because she works there.She hasn’t had any meaningful interaction with them, but she still likes them. They come in every Tuesday evening, Mr. Deetz in business wear and BJ in sweatpants, a hoodie, and usually some kind of beanie. Frances thinks that maybe Mr. Deetz picks BJ up after work, and they go to the store together.It’s a nice routine; a nice thing for a father to do with his son. Frances doubts that it’s something that they have to do together; it seems more like a bonding activity, and it’s nice. It makes Frances like them.
Relationships: Beetlejuice & Charles Deetz
Comments: 32
Kudos: 226





	all those people that you know

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for self-harming stimming and mentions of blood. A character also experiences a sensory-overload related meltdown, but the fic is not from that character's point of view. Please let me know if I should warn for anything else!
> 
> This is canon universe! Everyone in town assumes that Beetlejuice is Charles's son, BJ Deetz, and the Deetzes are happy with that assumption :)

For the past few months, Mr. Deetz and his son, BJ, have come to Hugh’s Groceries every Tuesday. 

Frances also comes to Hugh’s Groceries every Tuesday. Actually, Frances comes to Hugh’s Groceries every Sunday through Thursday. That’s because she works there. 

Everyone knows the Deetzes. Or, well, knows _of_ them. Winter River doesn’t often get newcomers, and anything new is always a great source of interest to the denizens of Winter River. From what Frances has heard, the family moved in after Mrs. Deetz died— the first Mrs. Deetz; there’s another one now— but had to leave briefly after a group of squatters (or druggies or fugitives or goblins; there are a couple different versions out there) took over the house. Fortunately, that problem seemed to be taken care of quickly. Frances isn’t exactly sure how, but that’s okay.

Mostly, she’s glad that a family as nice as the Deetzes seem to be have moved into the Maitlands’ old house. She went to high school with them, and while they weren’t friends— they were two grades ahead of her, and they ran in a different social group than she did, anyway— she remembers that they were a nice couple. And nice people. They deserve to have nice people living in their home after passing.

Frances doesn’t know Deetzes, but she still likes them. Well, she likes Mr. Deetz and BJ; she hasn’t met the others. She’s only spoken to Mr. Deetz and BJ a few times— things like, “How are you today?” and “Can I help you find anything?” Once, when Frances filled in for a cashier who’d called out sick, she said, “That’ll be $132.68.” 

So she hasn’t had any meaningful interaction with them, but she still likes them. They come in every Tuesday evening, Mr. Deetz in business wear and BJ in sweatpants, a hoodie, and usually some kind of beanie. Frances thinks that maybe Mr. Deetz picks BJ up after work, and they go to the store together.

It’s a nice routine; a nice thing for a father to do with his son. Frances doubts that it’s something that they _have_ to do together; it seems more like a bonding activity, and it’s nice. It makes Frances like them.

She likes to see them together, Mr. Deetz pushing the cart while BJ walks beside him, chattering excitedly in a way that she understands. She usually hears him talking about his “ghost powers” and something called “The Netherworld,” which Frances assumes has to do with some kind of video game. Mr. Deetz doesn’t always engage with BJ, but he never looks annoyed or tells BJ to shut up, which is better than how her father treated her.

What she likes best, though, is how freely BJ stims and how Mr. Deetz never tries to stop him. Neither man seems embarrassed by how BJ flaps his hands or rocks back and forth or repeats the same words over and over. It makes Frances happy, because maybe someday she’ll feel that free, too.

They come in every Tuesday— which Frances likes, because she likes routine, and she thinks BJ probably does, too— except for today, which is a Monday.

It puts Frances on edge. She even goes to check the date three times, because this isn’t right. They come in on Tuesdays, not Mondays. She doesn’t think that she’s the only one on edge, either; BJ seems withdrawn, trailing after Mr. Deetz silently. And, she notes with some surprise, he’s wearing a sweater instead of his usual hoodie. The sweater is knitted and looks itchy enough to make her uncomfortable just looking at it. BJ keeps tugging at it, as though he’s trying to keep it as far away from his skin as possible.

About ten minutes after the Deetzes arrive, Frances is reorganizing the soup cans when she hears screaming. Quickly, Frances gets up and follows the sound of the screaming, which leads her to the breakfast food aisle. There, next to the cereals, BJ is belly-down on the floor, screeching and squirming. Mr. Deetz is kneeling beside him, looking frantic.

Joe, her coworker, comes up beside her. “Fuck, what should we do?” he asks Frances quietly.

Frances notices a group of people starting to stop and stare the Deetzes, and she winces. “Try to keep the aisle clear,” she says. “They don’t need people staring at them. Get Vicky to help you if she shows up.” 

Joe nods, going to shoo the bystanders off as Frances walks forward towards the Deetzes carefully.

“Mr. Deetz? Is it the sweater?” she asks.

“What?” Mr. Deetz says, looking stressed and helpless as he tries to keep BJ from banging his head against the floor. Frances wonders if maybe it was Mrs. Deetz— the deceased Mrs. Deetz, not the current one— who watched over BJ more than Mr. Deetz did before she passed.

“Is it the sweater?” Frances asks again. “There are some spare uniform shirts in the back. They’re quite soft, if he’d like something else to change into.”

“I… sure,” Mr. Deetz says, clearly not understanding why Frances is offering. But Frances saw the way BJ was pulling at the sweater earlier, and she sees the way he’s squirming now; she figures it won’t hurt to offer him a change of clothes.

“I’ll be right back,” Frances says. Mr. Deetz doesn’t even seem to notice her leave as he quietly pleads with BJ to stop hurting himself.

Along with the shirt, she grabs a couple of the toys she keeps around in case she ever needs to calm herself down. There’s a toy that lights up and spins in a way that she finds soothing, and she also grabs a few of the chewable toys that she buys in bulk, still in their wrappers. After a moment of hesitation, she grabs her weighted lap pad, too.

When she gets back, she finds that Mr. Deetz seems to have won the battle of keeping BJ from hitting his head against the floor, but he’s currently fighting to keep BJ from biting his arms. Joe is still shooing customers away as politely as he can as Frances passes him, hurrying over to the Deetzes. 

“These are chewable toys,” Frances says, taking one of the toys out of its wrapper. The toy is bright green and shaped like a frog, attached to a cord so the user can wear it as a necklace. She holds it out, unsure if she should hand it to Mr. Deetz or BJ. BJ doesn’t seem to be paying attention, but she knows that it doesn’t mean he isn’t. 

Mr. Deetz looks at the toy hesitantly. “I, uh.” He clears his throat. “I’m afraid he might try to, uh. Eat it.”

“Oh,” Frances says, putting the toy back in its wrapper. “Well, I have this,” she says, picking up the toy that lights up and spins, and she presses the button to turn it on. 

BJ’s screeching starts to taper off almost immediately, and his fight to gnaw at his arms becomes less aggressive. He’s clearly still distressed, but it seems like he’s finally starting to calm down. 

Mr. Deetz’s gaze is flickering between BJ and the toy, a look of amazement on his face. 

“Sometimes I get really overwhelmed,” Frances tells BJ quietly. “Things like this help me calm down. I thought it might help you, too.” She holds up the lap pad, careful to keep the light-up toy in place. “I also have this, if you want to try it. It’s weighted.”

BJ doesn’t react at all, and Frances looks over at Mr. Deetz. “You could try putting this on his back,” she offers. At Mr. Deetz’s blank look, she adds, “It’s… comforting. The weight, I mean.” 

“Okay,” Mr. Deetz says warily, carefully taking the lap pad from her. He slowly starts to lay it down on BJ’s back, and when BJ doesn’t object, Mr. Deetz rests the whole thing on his back. He and Frances both watch BJ carefully, trying to make sure they didn’t just make things worse.

They don’t seem to have done so. BJ seems to relax more, actually, and Frances hears Mr. Deetz let out a sigh, presumably of relief.

Frances sits a little closer to BJ. “I bet it was hard coming in on a Monday instead of a Tuesday, huh,” she says. BJ’s still focused on the toy, but she sees him nod minutely. “It can be really hard when your schedule changes. I get it. I don’t like it either.”

BJ nods again, the motion a little more noticeable. 

They sit in silence for a while, BJ seemingly content to watch the toy. Hopefully the batteries don’t run out any time soon. BJ still has the side of his hand in his mouth, but he isn’t biting it. It’s more like he’s just holding it.

“Your sweater is uncomfortable too, right?” Frances says quietly. “I don’t know how you managed to make it all the way here while wearing it. I don’t think I would’ve been able to leave the house without melting down. You must be really strong.” 

BJ ducks his head a little. He’s clearly reacting to her words now, which is good.

“I brought you a shirt. It’s one of the shirts we wear while working here. It’s not the softest shirt ever, but it’s definitely a lot less itchy than the sweater you’re wearing. You can borrow it.” She pauses. “Do— do you want to borrow it?”

BJ’s gaze flickers up towards Mr. Deetz, who looks at him with some surprise. “I— you can borrow the shirt if you want to, buddy,” Mr. Deetz tells him.

BJ takes his hand out of his mouth, and Frances notes with alarm that there’s blood on his lips and around his mouth. It doesn’t look like he bit through the skin of his hand, though, so he must’ve bitten higher up on his arm, or maybe he bit his tongue or lip.

Mr. Deetz doesn’t look surprised by the blood— maybe he already knew that BJ bit through his skin, or maybe Mr. Deetz’s surprised expression looks different than most people’s. 

“What is it?” Mr. Deetz asks BJ, and BJ’s gaze flits over to the shirt in Frances’s hand and back again. “Do you want me to get the shirt for you?” BJ doesn’t visibly react, but Mr. Deetz nods as though he had. Maybe the reaction just wasn’t visible to Frances. “Could I have the shirt?” Mr. Deetz asks Frances, and she passes it over to him.

BJ and Mr. Deetz just look at each other for a moment, and then Mr. Deetz says, “Do you need help putting it on?” BJ’s jaw works for a moment, and then he nods, once, twice. “It’s okay,” Mr. Deetz says quickly. “It’s okay, buddy. Uh, could— could you sit up for me? I’ll have to take the— the lap pad off your back, though. Is that okay?” BJ nods again, a little more sure this time, and Mr. Deetz carefully takes the lap pad off his back and hands it over to Frances. “Thank you,” he says to her, and she nods back.

Mr. Deetz helps BJ roll over onto his back and sit up, and he goes to lift the hem of BJ’s sweater up when BJ stiffens. “What’s— oh,” Mr. Deetz says, looking back at Frances. “Uh,” he squints, looking at her. Her name tag, she realizes. “Frances, do you mind turning around for a moment?”

“Oh, right,” Frances says. She gets up and turns around, going to stand on BJ’s side opposite of their shopping cart, trying to give them some privacy from any customers who might look in. Joe and Vicky are doing their jobs, though, and she doesn’t see anyone stopping to look.

“Okay,” she hears Mr. Deetz say, and when she turns around, they’re both standing. The shirt is a little too big on BJ, but he seems a lot happier than he did in the sweater. He’s talking again, too.

“The sweater…” BJ frowns, looking as though he’s searching for the right words. “I don’t— I don’t like? I don’t like— like the sweater. No. I like the sweater. Barbara knitted it for me. But I don’t like to wear it. It’s too scratchy. Do you think she’ll be mad?”

Mr. Deetz blinks. “Who— oh, Barbara? No, buddy. I’m sure she’ll understand.” 

“Okay,” BJ says, nodding.

Frances wonders who Barbara is. The only Barbara she knows is Barbara Maitland, so it’s probably someone from out of town. Perhaps an aunt or cousin.

BJ wraps his arms around himself, shivering a little. France understands; their uniform shirt are long-sleeved, but the store is cold. She usually wears another long-sleeved shirt under her uniform. She’s about to offer to get him another shirt so he can layer them, but that’s when Mr. Deetz takes off his suit jacket and places it over BJ’s shoulders without hesitation. There’s a moment where BJ just looks stunned, and then he quickly slips his arms into the sleeves before throwing them around Mr. Deetz. 

Then it’s Mr. Deetz who looks stunned for a moment before carefully wrapping his arms around BJ and hugging him back. 

It’s a private moment, one that seems to have do with something more than just a suit jacket. They don’t seem to need anything more from Frances, so she leaves them to their moment. 

The next day— Tuesday evening— Frances sees BJ come in with an older red-headed woman. Frances guesses that this is Mrs. Deetz— the new one, not the dead one.

The woman says something to BJ, who nods, before she heads straight towards Frances, BJ beside her.

“Hello! Frances, right?” the woman says, smiling widely. When Frances nods, the woman says, “I’m Delia! And I believe you know my son, BJ? My husband, Charles, had a meeting and couldn’t come in today, but he want to thank you for all your help yesterday. Oh! And I have this—” Delia reaches into her purse and pulls out the shirt that Frances gave BJ yesterday. “Here! We washed it for you, too.”

Frances takes the shirt and nods. “I— thank you.”

“Oh, no, thank you!” Delia says. “I mean it. You helped us more than you know.” She looks over at BJ, who’s watching them both with a somewhat anxious look on his face. 

Taking a deep breath, Frances looks over at BJ and lets herself rock back and forth in the way she likes, in the way she’s seen BJ rock back and forth too. BJ grins back at her, flapping his hands and jumping a little.

“It was no problem,” Frances tells them.

**Author's Note:**

> Frances: here’s a chewable stim toy that might help :)  
> Charles, who has seen Beetlejuice chomp happily away at glass bottles and does not want this nice employee to see Beej eat a huge glob of green silicone: uh— 
> 
> Rambling author time!
> 
> Frances is kind of taking a risk that the light-up spinning toy won’t make Beej’s sensory overload worse. But she was just following the author’s orders, and the author headcanons that light and sound are positive, calming stims for Beetlejuice.
> 
> No one was actually aware that Beetlejuice is autistic, including Beetlejuice. Frances helps them out a lot by giving them a clue, and now they can learn how better help BJ when he gets overwhelmed.
> 
> A big part of the reason BJ's meltdown was so bad was that he spent the entire time trying not to lose control of his powers, because people tend to get hurt when that happens. Also he really likes being Lydia's brother and Charles and Delia's son, and people might start to think otherwise if they see him use his ghost zombie jesus powers. That's why he also wears a beanie in public (to hide his hair color changes). Why does he still talk about the Netherworld and stuff in public? The bug boy thinks he's speaking quietly. He is not.
> 
> I hc that Beej has difficulty talking about what he likes and dislikes; he’s more used to talking about things in terms of good and bad. (Is this a reference to a post I made about him becoming less id-driven after becoming alive? Yes, yes it is.) So when he’s talking about the sweater he has some difficulty because he wants to call it bad, but he realizes that the sweater itself isn’t bad; it’s his experience wearing it that’s bad. It takes him a moment to realize that means that he doesn’t like it. Or, more specifically, it’s the experience of wearing the sweater that he doesn’t like. 
> 
> I'm armpit-of-orion on tumblr. Drop by any time!


End file.
